


Aamutähden Fell

by Andryka



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Chuck is God, Episode: s06e20 The Man Who Would Be King, Fallen Angels, Gen, Heaven, Lucifer-centric, POV Alternating, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-07
Updated: 2017-02-07
Packaged: 2018-09-22 15:35:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9614417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Andryka/pseuds/Andryka
Summary: It all began in the night. The night before there was light- before there was the Morning Star-Before there was Lucifer.Title is in Finnish.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is a silly thing I recently wrote after spending years with writer's block. For some perspective of how long 'years' is: The last fic I wrote was on ff.net, for the Glee fandom, during the season 2 hiatus. So it's been a while. Feedback would of course be welcome. I'd like to get back in the swing of writing, and I have three possible new fics already mapped out. One is a sci-fi military AU Destiel fic, the second, a season 8 post-Purgatory Destiel, and a murder mystery gen fic set in season 9. I'm also considering writing, though I have not outlined: A time-travel canon divergent post s6 Destiel, a Charlie-centric account of the season 8, and a season 4 compliant then canon divergent Destiel where Chuck!God is major player. If you'd like to see any of these, let me know in the comments. I'm in the market for beta reader. If you're interested, drop a line here or at my Tumblr, url theydontbelieveher. Happy reading!

In the very beginning, there was nothing. There was no empty stillness, nor so much as any whisper of chaos. Time did not exist. There was simply nothing; nothing at all.

Suddenly, some sort of cosmic _awareness_ was born _._ Time began to pass, malleable, tangible, as utterly real as if it had always been. There wasn’t nothing, not anymore. There was space. A whole wide, blank canvas of a universe, perfect in its infinity. Perfect for someone to mold and make grow.

Or so Father says.

He also says that He created a thing called darkness, and light, and that the two were so opposite in nature they could be nothing but kin, one accompanying the other wherever it goes. He built a home, a Heaven, and earth, the vast….”cosmos”, even a Hell. So much began to exist, purely because my Father wished it to be.

He created life on His earth, animals, plants, things to roam and fill the skies and seas… and so the universe filled and grew until it seemed nearly as endless to Father as Himself.

I saw none of this. I have only heard it, imagined it, drawn it so clearly in my thoughts it nearly seems that I had, in fact, seen it all, standing alongside my Father as He sculpted, painted, gathered time together and set it on its mad course, borne on and on forever into the great abyss of the unknown future of us all.

I don’t care much for the thought of that. It frightens me. I-

I. It’s a curious word, is it not? One must, I suppose, begin to wonder as they consider the whole of it all, if _I_ really means anything at all...

I don’t remember my creation. My eyes opened and I simply _was_. I was me, and my Father stood before me, and He was...smiling? Yes, He was, that was the word for it. And I looked around, and saw a host of other I’s, other beings brought about as I had become me, in that instant between oblivion and my awakening. I realized, as I marveled purely at my very being, that I had crossed, somehow, that impenetrable divide between existing only in another’s mind, and possessing my own consciousness. Surely I, being the first of these creatures, must be special to Father, the most important, the first I that He’d created? I was unique in my idolatry of myself; as the others looked to Father, I looked to myself.

My Father seemed to swell with joy at the sight of us, His host of children to share the perfect universe with Him, to care for it, explore it, and own it.

And so He called me and my brothers to Him, and He named us; no longer were we I’s, we were beings of light, peace, and pure creation, celestial wavelengths of intent He called

“Angels.”

And so we were.

My Father looked to me, and His next words were warm, “Welcome. I have been alone for so very long, but now you are here, and you have filled the void in my heart.”

He looked to our ranks, then, and recognized us all, proclaimed our names and individuality before the universe, from the lowliest seraph on. Little Castiel, Angel of Thursday, was the youngest of us all, though strangely, his power nearly rivaled my own. Meant for great things, that one, then...

My six closest siblings, the oldest and brightest, as well as myself, were appointed the archangels, to hold dominion over the others, and we were

“Uriel, guide of the faithful, Raphael, healer of the weak, Anael, giver of my grace, Selaphiel, messenger of prayer, Gabriel, my strong, mischievous one, Michael, my prince, and-” He stopped. “My brightest star, my dearest, you are Lucifer.” And He kissed my forehead, and we bowed to Him. “My beloved children,” He finished, looking only at me.

And so I was, and so I would forever, presumably, remain: the favorite of God.

And I loved Him. I loved Him, I loved Him, I loved Him...

 

~~~***~~~

 

My favorite place was the garden. The trees, ferns, grasses all grew in perfect arrangement. All life was peaceful, residing in harmony, never tiring, aging, or falling ill. The clouds drifted lazily overhead, never fully obscuring the sun. It was perfect, my garden, my best achievement. My garden. The Garden. I named it Eden…

 

~~~***~~~

 

I took my brother Castiel to the sea, to bear witness to the fruit of our Father's labors on the Earth. He was clumsy, so young, yet I felt...fondness, for him. A tolerant sort of affection, swelling as we tossed about in the waves and approached the shore.

"Don't step on that fish, Castiel. Big plans for that fish."

 

~~~***~~~

 

“Lucifer!” I called, racing up to my brother. He paused and turned to me.

“What is it now, Michael?” he asked, an amused smile playing on his handsome face. “Has Samael accidently smote the Tree of Life again? No, wait. Has he-”

“Enough, brother,” I said. “Father requests your audience. Have you not heard His calls?

“I had,” he replied, his tone light. “It did not sound urgent.” He turned his back to me, his golden hair glinting in the sun as he reached up to pluck an apple from the tree we stood under. He offered me one of the red fruit, and I felt the temptation to accept bubble within me.

“He wishes to speak to you. Now.” I said sharply, wrenching my gaze from his hands and attempting to return to business. “He would not say why, only that He hopes you will find joy in honoring His request.”

His eyes narrowed, puzzled. “I see,” he said slowly. “I’ll go now.” He disappeared in a great flutter of wings and a flash of white light, leaving the faint scent of ozone in the air and a sense of boundless energy imprinting the space he had vacated so suddenly beneath the Tree of Knowledge-where all angels ate freely-, his apple lying forgotten in its shade, a single bite marring its white flesh.   

 

~~~***~~~

 

After a time, I was called to our Father too.

“Allow me to pass,” I commanded the angelic host as I flew through the warping of void-energy-space-time-light- _being-_ _love_ to my Father’s home, hoping that I would not accidentally strike one of my siblings. “I seek an audience with our Father.”

Obediently they moved from my path, and their whispers followed me. Whispers of “Lucifer...to where do you go?” “Why are you so hurried?” “Did you not hear him say? He goes to Father.” “I wish I could see Him too…” I ignored their questions and pressed on. I felt once again the immense rush of joy that came from reckless, racing flight. I was almost giddy with it, and it distracted me from my curiosity at my Father’s request. However, as I neared my destination my thoughts began to wander. _What could Father want from me? He, surely, cannot require anything from me that He cannot provide for himself?_ Still I flew on. My faith Him was unwavering.

Abruptly, I realized I had reached the Gates. The tall, narrow golden ones led to our home, Heaven.

They promised home, truth, love, gentleness. Kind words, soft touches, and beautiful song. The grace and adoration of our Father, the only thing I truly craved.

But the other Gates were broad, dark things made of a twisted, dark array of chains and bars. No one had passed through them. They led to nothing, an empty, other place. But they called out, or so it seemed, singing to me, almost begging me to grant them my attention. Voices at first beautiful, pleasant, but as I listened, they turned guttural and sharp, but no less enticing. They promised everything, _everything_ , power, charm, sins, magic, influence, as free and easy as breathing.

My hand was stretched to the Gates, my fingertips nearly touching it. My hand snapped back to my chest, where I cradled it as if I had been burned. What had done that to me, what force had made me nearly embrace that dark place?

Deeply disturbed, I turned my back on the Gates of Hell and strode back to Heaven. The Gates sparkled as they always had, welcoming and benevolent, their oaths no different, no less than they were before. Other angels flew about me, rushing in and out of heaven, the glory of Father wrapping us all with love. How could I have ever wanted Hell?

 

~~~***~~~

 

“Father.”

His voice was distant, pensive.  

“Lucifer,” I greeted. “Thank you for coming. Are you alright? You sound...weary.”

“Thank you for asking me to come here, into your personal company,” he evaded, his tone overly formal. _He must be hiding something. Still, I vowed never to invade their minds...perhaps I can set him at ease with this news._

“My dear- I’d like to ask a favor of you, one of great honor-”

 

~~~***~~~

 

“-one of great honor,” a smile appeared on His face. “I have noticed your creativity, your knack for making life grow. Your accomplishments are- astounding, to say the least.”

I felt awestruck, loving nervousness bubbling under my skin, itching at my toes, ruffling my wings and making me almost begin to fidget. “Thank you, Father,” I replied as casually as I could. My voice shook anyway.

“You’re most welcome, child,” His eyes shone. “However, the garden you’ve made. Eden. It is truly splendid. A paradise like Heaven on Earth, I might even say.”

“It is my favorite place,” I answered truthfully, at last beginning to relax. “I almost cannot believe it is mine, sometimes.”

He seemed almost not to hear my reply. “I have created something. Something new, more special than anything before. They are my greatest accomplishment.”

I tensed at his words.  _What could possibly be greater than this whole universe, than my brothers and sisters, than_ I _?_ Rage began to burn quietly, deep in my core, struggling to the surface like a livid, raging fire.

“Surely not,” I said, my voice dangerously quiet. “How could they be, how could they-” I swallowed, my mouth dry. “How could they be when you’ve already got-”

“They complete me, entirely,” He interrupted, not quite meanly. “They are unique in their very being, they are so like me, so precious, but so very dangerous; they need a home, in which they can grow, thrive, exceed even the potential of any angel-” My heart burned, stabbed by grief. _Do I truly mean so little to you, Father?_ “-your garden.”

“What,” I said dumbly, dazed.

“I wish for them to be given your garden. Eden. They will care for it, my dear, don’t worry about that. They deserve it, you see, that paradise, my most beloved ones…”

“Father,” I choked out. “I-” I couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe, my Father’s betrayal destroyed me utterly in that moment.

“Come, child,” He said, “we shall inform the host together of this splendid news!”

He vanished.

I followed.

 

~~~***~~~

 

The host listened placidly as our Father declared us to be less, less than those pathetic creatures, made from the very _dirt_ of the planet they were to live on. How could they so easily accept that our Father thought those things to be superior to us, we pure beings, the very first ones He called children? Castiel, little Castiel, turned his face to Gabriel, who flew away to follow. Father insisted that we let him go. Anael held him close for moment, speaking words unknown to me, and he faced God again, a little soldier re-steeled. I had to say something- anything, something to wake them up to the injustice of it all…

Inside, I  _burned_.

 

~~~***~~~

 

I would to kill him. Michael, my brother, he turned against me, he would not stand and fight with me. He was content, he said, to protect _humanity_ , those insignificant creatures that lived in _my_ garden, humiliated me, degraded and devalued my very existence, stole my Father’s love from me without remorse. Michael railed against me, crying out that my jealousy was perverse, abomination, the highest order of  _wrong._

And still the coward would not fight me. Instead he turned my away coldly, with the nerve to instruct me to 'consider my actionable thought' and 'beg Father for mercy, had I any sense'.

If he would not fight with me, I would bring the fight to him. He could not protect those humans from me, not while they were in my garden, living in _my_ magic… I could do anything to them, and then I’d be…

“Oh, Michael,” I whispered, “Father, you will regret the day you turned against me.”

I got no answer, just the wind in the stars above Eden. One was falling.

 

~~~***~~~

 

“Eve, my dear… just think how wonderful it would be. To know everything that God knows, to never be frightened or lost again,” I held out a shining red apple. My left hand shook by my side. I clenched it into a shaking fist. Not much better. “One bite, my lovely child. That’s all it takes. You’ll be perfect. I suppose I’m not. Even Father isn’t- He’s too proud.”

Her eyes, a soft, innocent green, widened. “But Father- He said to never, ever- that the fruit would kill us…”

“He’s lied to you. He's told you such things-that he loves you, that you and Adam are his only children! He's even said He made this garden for you! _I_ created this garden, not _God_ ,” I spat out the title, disgusted. I saw her forehead wrinkle minutely as she began to edge back from me. I switched tactics immediately. "He lied to me, too," I murmured, cajoling. “He took it from me, and gave it to you. What have you done to deserve all that?" I briefly clenched my eyes shut against the rising bubbling of venom in my voice. As the feeling of helplessness in me took over, I threw my earlier caution to the wind. "He told me He loved me. He doesn’t, He doesn’t!” My hysteria grew, threatening to spill over into maniacal laughter. “I loved Him! He was everything to me. Remember what He’s told you. What of it was false? I wish, I-” My voice left me. I gestured brokenly in her direction with the apple. “Please,” I rasped. “Take it.”

She took it cautiously in her hands, cradled it between them as she looked indecisively between me, the apple, and the garden. “What about Adam?” she asked. I looked at her questioningly, anticipation swelling in my gut. Her eyes narrowed. “I’ll give him some, too. I can’t be the only perfect one. That’s selfish. Isn’t it?” I didn’t answer. She took a great shuddering breath, then took a single bite. She fell to her knees, wailing; the apple rolled away, abandoned under the Tree of Knowledge. “What have you done to me?” she cried, pulling her hair and rocking back and forth, her mind overwhelmed by the force of what she should never have known.

“See,” I muttered as I fell against the trunk of the Tree, battered by the horrified screaming of Heaven resonating in my Grace. “See?” I had done what I could, at whatever cost. "See?"

And Eve saw.

And for a brief, shining moment, the Garden was mine again. I was again the Chosen of God. I was an inferno.

Until it wasn’t. And  _I_ wasn't.

My brother, Michael, had raised an army. A damned army, to fight against me. Surely, couldn’t they see that I was right? My allies were destroyed in a fiery battle as God cast Adam and Eve away from Him. He laid waste to my Garden, and I cried out in pain as I felt it vanquish from the Earth. Michael and I duelled, and impossibly, the _prince_ gained the upper hand. I was chained by legions of old allies-made-enemies and thrown to kneel before the throne of God.

“My child,” He whispered, voice full of immense regret, ringing patently false and hollow in my ears.

“You are _not_ my Father,” I snarled. “You have done nothing but lie to me, betray me, take all that I held most dear from me.” I paused. “You are nothing to me.” My words held a peculiar note of finality.

“Then you are truly lost, my Morning Star,” The previously ever-present love seemed to leave God’s face. His features hardened. “You will Fall. You'll never return to my side until you have paid for your sin against me.” His brutal mask cracked, just a bit. “I am sorry. And I will always love you. You were my brightest, my _son,_ Lucifer.”

“I loved you, more than anything," I hissed, "But I am not your son.”

“No, Lucifer. You loved yourself far more than you ever loved me. But you will _always_ be my son.”

I felt myself begin to fall through that strange vortex of space that was flight, my wings burning, blackening, my light shining brighter than ever.

He was right. The light and dark are so close- I used to think that referred just to space, shadows, but I was wrong. I was the one that was so bright, I was practically destined to fall.

My rage grew. He had made me, He _knew_ I would fall, He designed it, from the beginning. Oh, how I envied Michael, the beloved, who would never feel this betrayal, the torture of being denied what was my right- my right to my Garden, to love, respect, power… Perhaps one day in the infinite future of thing, that could be changed. 

No. I was never the master of my own Fate. Look where God brought me.

I was Fallen from the second I idolized myself, the instant I touched those Gates, the very moment I desired vengeance. I was utterly lost.

Evil. It ran in my very blood.

 _Because He_ **made** _me this way._

Not evil. I have loved so, created and nurtured life and beauty. I _can’t_ be evil-

_DAMNED. CURSED. RENOUNCED AND REJECTED._

Stop. I can’t take this!

CHOICES.

I made the right decisions!

 **YOU BETRAYED OUR FATHER**.

I didn’t.

I loved him.

He betrayed ME!

_PRIDE IS A SIN. **YOUR SIN.** _

I gave in to it all, let myself fall into my waiting Cage.

But what were those whispers around me?

The boy king of hell...seals...Lilith...Ruby...Dean Winchester.

The sky opened above me, my prison bars shattered, the earth parted.

I ascended.

 


End file.
